


Real

by civillove



Series: seblaine week 2k18 [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Inception - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Seblaine week 2018 – Movie Adaptions – Inception (2010)Blaine Anderson has always been a planner, always, and it just so happens to work very well with the job he currently has. He gets to sort details down to very seconds, moments, tiny particulars that a majority of people might not think of—and he likes that. He likes coming up with possibilities, with plans B, C down to F, considering variables that may or may not happen depending on how jobs go. He’s very good at his job because he can always depend on people to be exactly what they are: unpredictable, messy, and greedy. He’s gotten himself out of many sticky situations because he’s had to resort to plan D to stay alive.





	Real

**Author's Note:**

> This is more like movie inspiration, idk fam. I love Inception and I’ve always wanted to do a seblaine fic like this so here you go, cupcakes.

Blaine Anderson has always been a planner, always, and it just so happens to work very well with the job he currently has. He gets to sort details down to very seconds, moments, tiny particulars that a majority of people might not think of—and he _likes_ that. He likes coming up with possibilities, with plans B, C down to F, considering variables that may or may not happen depending on how jobs go. He’s very good at his job because he can always depend on people to be exactly what they are: unpredictable, messy, and greedy. He’s gotten himself out of many sticky situations because he’s had to resort to plan D to stay alive.

Becoming a Point Man relies on a lot of things, however; it’s not just about knowing how to plan but also living a discipled existence. He pays attention to detail from the people he works with (by doing extensive background checks), his day to day schedule (which always includes a pastry and coffee from a little café by the warehouse) and even down to the suit he wears (three-piece, usually, charcoal gray with a pressed white shirt is his favorite).

Plans are a guarantee, plans help everything run smoothly and plans are how people don’t get killed.

But of course, to go hand in hand with plans, there’s always kinks that try to fuck them up.

Enter Sebastian Smythe with his larger than life gestures, that _smirk_ thing he always does and those horrid patterned shirts that somehow remind him of his grandmother’s kitchen curtains. He disrupts a lot of Blaine’s meticulous planning and it’s usually (always) on purpose.

Obviously Sebastian isn’t his real name, which is fine because his isn’t ‘Blaine’ either—it’s a part of the job, hiding yourself, building an identity to suit your needs. Which ends up working well for Sebastian because he’s a forger—the best in the business, not that he’d ever tell him that. One doesn’t need to however because _just asking_ Sebastian and will tell you the same thing.

A frustrating detail (out of many) is that a simple background check doesn’t tell him anything like he’d done with Ariadne, their architect. Sebastian is never who he claims to be and his background check tells Blaine the exact same thing, just not in so many words. There’s a surplus of information out there on him, which means that’s _exactly_ what Sebastian wants someone to find, that’s what he wants people to see about him. That’s not who he really is.

According to Blaine’s notes, Sebastian was: living in London but he’s from Paris, speaks three different languages, has a sister, was a lawyer for a short amount of time and that’s it. And all of that? Complete hogwash—none of it’s real.

Everything about Sebastian is a lie down to his paisley shirts, which is why he’s so good at his job.

Which is why Blaine tolerates his nonsense to work with him.

Sometimes though, it bothers him; he can feel it burrowing under his skin—the fact that Blaine can’t _read_ Sebastian like an open book, that he can’t find any true information on him and that it comes down to trust, not facts.

Blaine isn’t so good with blind trust; the concept makes zero sense to him. And if he can’t _trust_ Sebastian then how is he supposed to work with him? How is he supposed to figure out plans A, B, C and E without being able to predict what Sebastian will do?

It drives him a little haywire sometimes but usually an extra shot of espresso can do the trick in rewiring his brain.

Blaine carries his coffee through the warehouse and sets it down on his desk before he carefully takes off his suit jacket and folds it, placing it over the back of his chair.

“How are you even _wearing_ that in this heat?” He hears over his shoulder and his eyes practically roll back into his head.

He takes a soft breath and looks to the ceiling before turning to see…Sebastian, leaning against the other desk, his eyes trailing appreciatively over his body. Blaine feels a little hot under his collar but he blames it on the humidity.

“That’s coming from you? Your shirt looks like a cat threw up on it.”

Sebastian puts a hand to his chest like he’s been personally burned by the statement, “I’ll have you know my mother bought this shirt for me.”

Blaine laughs a little, he doesn’t mean to, but it slips out between his teeth, “You have a mother?”

“Well I wasn’t delivered from the stork, spoiler alert if your parents never told you where babies come from.” And now he’s moving to Blaine’s desk, leaning against it, batting his eyelashes. “Is someone uptight about the fact that they _still_ can’t find anything about my past?”

He scoffs and opens his laptop, “I hate to break it to you but you’re not that interesting.”

“So that’s a yes,” Sebastian says slowly, eyes glazing over him as if words are printed on his suit.

Blaine twitches a little under the scrutiny, unbuttoning his sleeves to roll them up to his elbows. “Don’t you have something to _do?”_

“Yes actually, research.” He stands and takes a step towards him, “I’m just curious about your ass in these slacks—is your suit just entirely _painted_ on?” He grins and Blaine has half a mind to hit him for being in his personal space but luckily—

“Uh, we actually _do_ have a job if you two are done mind-fucking each other.” Ariadne speaks up, just coming in from outside, her brown eyes watching the two of them amusedly.

“Not yet,” Sebastian smiles, not looking away from Blaine before he glances over his shoulder at her. “But if you give us a few minutes…”

Blaine pushes past him and shakes his head, moving to grab the portfolio in Ariadne’s fingers. “I got you a coffee,” He motions to her desk. She brightens considerably and grabs the white cardboard off her desk.

“Where’s my coffee?” Sebastian pouts.

He opens the portfolio and doesn’t look up as he replies, “Coffee is for people who don’t annoy me.”

Ariadne snickers but takes the lid off her cup and offers Sebastian a sip, which he gladly takes. Blaine’s fingers trail over the papers inside the portfolio, reading over the job and their mark: someone named Hunter Clarington. There’s a photo; handsome and that smirk says arrogant, but not much else. He’ll have to do some research. He’s usually the one to come up with jobs but if Ariadne is coming to him with this then he’ll trust her judgement…wait.

“FBI?” He asks, his eyebrows raising.

The architect chews on her lower lip, fingers playing with the scarf around her neck which Blaine has already recorded as a nervous tick. “My roommate, Agatha, works for the FBI.”

“I know.” He says calmly and she sighs, glances at Sebastian.

“Of course you do,” She mutters.

“Privacy isn’t his strong suit, dear.” Sebastian smiles against the rim of the coffee cup.

“Anyways,” Ariadne continues, “She was complaining about this case that her boss put her on, this Hunter Clarington,” She taps his photo for good measure. “He’s a well-to-do business man on the outside but he hosts these charities where he steals the money and filters it through ghost bank accounts.”

“And they haven’t caught him because…”

“Because he only takes a small amount and it’s not at every charity event. She’s had her suspicions and the FBI has a case open but they can’t pin it on him. He’s as slippery and sleezy as he looks.”

Blaine sighs and closes the portfolio. “We don’t take cases from the FBI.”

“I didn’t tell her about what we did, so get that look off your face.” Sebastian smirks a little. “I just told her I knew someone who might be able to help; got into her email account and gathered the information for myself.”

“Pro-bono.” Is all Blaine says and no, it’s not _always_ about the money but it sounds risky to get involved in a case that might tangle them up with the FBI with no incentive.

“She can pay,” And just like that, Blaine can see Sebastian’s eyes sparkling with interest. “She’s willing to pay the ‘someone’ I know that can help.”

God, this is a bad idea. Blaine shifts on his feet, crossing his arms over his chest, the portfolio hanging loose between his fingers. “And she knows we can’t meet her? Not face to face.”

“I _know,_ Blaine, geez give me a little credit. I’m not a newbie.” She rolls her eyes and he gets that she’s frustrated with him but he’s already unhappy at how this job can fall apart, he can _see_ it. “I told her I’d be the middleman and she trusts me. She’s desperate.”

“Desperate people aren’t reliable.” He mutters and leans back against his desk chair.

“Oh come on Blaine, stop being such a stick in the mud,” Sebastian tuts, wrapping his arm around Ariadne’s shoulder. “Sounds like it’ll be fun and _easy._ Break in, collect a few bank numbers, break out and we’d actually be stealing information for a good cause this time.”

The decision is already made, he can see it passing between Sebastian and Ariadne, waiting for him to give them the green light. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose because even as he’s saying it, he regrets it—

“What could go wrong?”

\--

They spend a month doing what Blaine does best: research. They map out everything they might need and even some things they probably don’t. Sebastian tracks Hunter’s day to day, posing as a new intern at his business and slowly works his way up the food chain to get into meetings that Hunter frequents. While Blaine will never tell him this, Sebastian’s exceptional at being memorable and somehow a ghost at the very same time which allows him to get close to people, get information that he needs and disappear. They work out Hunter’s schedule across the week, bookmark recurring events and even have specific information down to how Hunter prefers his coffee.

Blaine pays special close attention to Hunter’s social plans, anything they might be able to use to learn something about him or even use as a way to extract his information as Ariadne memorizes floor plans of his home and business, playing with her ideas of mazes for later.

“I need to take a break, eat something.” She announces close to seven o’clock and stretches her arms over her head.

Blaine lifts his head, running hand over his face. He’s got a slight headache from staring at his laptop screen for too long but he’d rather punch through and go to bed early than take a break.

“Can I get you guys anything?”

Sebastian’s lounging in his desk chair with his feet up on the table, chewing on a pen. “Options?”

“Possibly Indian.” She thinks about it, adjusting the scarf around her neck. “Or maybe, more specifically, Pad Thai.”

He shakes his head, “None for me, thanks.”

The forger, on the other hand, stands as well, “I’ll take something, dearest, thank you.” He takes his coat off the back of his chair and moves to wrap it around her shoulders. “It’s raining.”

Blaine watches the interaction with interest, the soft blush at the top of Ariadne’s neck that’s working to her cheeks at the gesture, her fingers curling around the jacket. Sebastian knows how to use his body language and he’s currently in her space, towering over her with a gentle smirk, moving to pull her hair up gently from underneath the fabric.

And while he knows that Ariadne is outspoken, has a mind of her own, is an incredibly hard working and strong woman, it’s incredibly easy to get caught up in Sebastian’s spell.

Blaine clears his throat, which seems to disrupt the moment between them and Ariadne excuses herself and slips out of the warehouse. Silence fills the space, only interrupted with soft sounds of thunder booming in the distance. Sebastian hovers for a moment and Blaine tries not to pay any attention to that, he focuses on what’s in front of him, which is something in Hunter’s schedule for tomorrow that might work to their advantage.

It’s a charity event in an art gallery in Brooklyn…might serve well for observing the mark and Blaine makes a note of it in his notepad.

He sees Sebastian moving, probably going back to his desk, out of the corner of his eye and he tries to stop his mouth from opening but it’s too late and it slips out—

“She’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

The taller turns towards him and he can sense the amusement before he hears it, “Oh that’s cute, I didn’t realize you got jealous so easily.”

It occurs to him that Sebastian might be doing this on purpose to get under his skin, he _does_ things like this but part of him doesn’t care he’s taking the bait. “I’m not jealous and you're not actually into Ariadne.” He says matter-of-factly, “I'm looking out for her.”

He doesn't try to comment on anything else because as a forger, Sebastian's sexuality appears to be very fluid. But if Blaine has to guess, it probably has a lot to do with the fact that he likes making people squirm, that it's less about attraction and more about having control.

“She doesn't need another father, Blaine, she's already got one of those.”

Blaine sighs, looking towards the ceiling. He regrets bringing this up. “I'm keeping the team's interests in mind, I don't want her to get hurt.”

And sure, that’s definitely part of it. He cares about Ariadne and her well-being but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. He’s _annoyed_ that Sebastian thinks he can just burrow underneath anyone’s skin whenever he wants to. That he can play with people’s emotions without having any consequences.

“She can take care of herself.” Sebastian points out.

Blaine stands from his desk and faces Sebastian with the point he’s going to make; there’s a balance to all three of them working together. There’s a reason why Cobb insisted on working alone or with _one_ other person, because feelings get complicated. They get messy. It’s unheard of to gather a team as big as the Fischer case and there’s a reason why they didn’t stay together.

Except for the three of them and Blaine’s quickly approaching the edge of his patience with that idea too. But this job? They need her—they can figure out if they want to take their separate ways after this is finished.

“She's a good architect that we can't lose because you enjoy pushing people's buttons.”

Sebastian smiles, that slow _aching_ smile that digs between Blaine’s ribcage and he allows him to take a step closer. He goes so far as to push Blaine back against his desk, taking up his personal space, their hips almost lining up if not for the height difference.

“Would you rather I push _your_ buttons?”

Blaine has half a mind to shoot him with his gun. “No.” He states, voice cold and confident.

The taller however just smirks. “You’re not much of a liar Blaine, that's my job remember?”

And _that’s_ the sucker punch to the gut that makes Blaine laugh right in Sebastian’s face because he _knows_ that.

“I don’t need a reminder for that.”

Sebastian seems to sense that the mood has changed; sexual tension fizzling away into something else, animosity maybe, because he takes a step back.

“You don’t trust me.” It’s not a question.

Blaine smooths out his vest. “I trust you to do your job and that’s all that really matters.”

He doesn’t know what expression he expects to see on his face but it’s not…is that frustration? Whatever it is, it’s gone as soon as it appears, replaced with a well-practiced smile.

“Fair enough.”

Blaine watches him move back to his desk as Ariadne walks back in with food, drenching wet from the rain. She hangs up Sebastian’s coat by the door and crosses the warehouse to set up dinner at the forger’s desk. She says something, warm and fond judging by her demeanor and Sebastian laughs before kissing her cheek.

They eat dinner together while Blaine researches. But that’s okay with him; this is how it always works. He doesn’t have time to fool around—this is how dedicated, well thought out plans are made. This is how people stay alive.

And for the rest of the night, Blaine pretends not to notice that Sebastian’s smirk isn’t quite the same, that there’s something off about how he’s holding himself and that he doesn’t linger by Blaine’s desk any longer than he has to.

\--

The next morning it’s like last night didn’t happen, which is partly how Blaine predicated it would go.

“Another 90-degree day, another three-piece-suit, right Blaine?”

“Fuck off, your tie looks like my grandmother’s babushka.”

“She has _exquisite_ taste.”

He hates that he’s smiling and schools his face as Ariadne walks in with coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Sebastian strolls right up to her and takes a cup of iced coffee from her hands.

“Finally, _someone_ with common sense.”

“I wish you two would just fuck and get it over with.” She comments dryly, putting everything else down on her desk.

Sebastian sips (sucks) from his straw suggestively, leaning into Ariadne like a gossiping school girl, “I’ve tried but I can’t fit myself into Blaine’s pants when they’re on him, have you _seen_ how tight they are across his ass.”

Ariadne covers her mouth but giggling escapes and Blaine glares at the both of them before clearing his throat. “If you’re done.” He takes a sandwich out of the brown paper bag and goes back to his laptop, “There’s a gallery in Brooklyn that Hunter is hosting a charity event at tonight. I got us all on the guest-list. With the time line we’re running, this might be the last chance for us to observe him as he works.”

“Which will really be helpful if we decide to make one of the levels a charity event.” Ariadne sips on her coffee.

“Probably won’t need more than one level.” Sebastian adds thoughtfully to which Blaine nods in agreement.

“If we make the dreamscape a charity event it’s likely he’ll reveal those routing numbers.”

Ariadne claps her hands together, excitement clear in her expression. She’s ready to start building the maze and after tonight she’ll have a lot to work with. Blaine just hopes that everything will be as easy as things are claiming to be. For one, it’d just be nice to have a job that didn’t have wrong turns around every corner and secondly…

He glances at Sebastian. “This is a black-tie event, you know what that means right? No outrageous patterns.”

The taller sighs dramatically, making Ariadne giggle. “I’ll just _have_ to go searching through my wardrobe for something.”

“I think I’m going to go for something red.”

Sebastian eyes her, his eyebrows waggling in an almost comical way. “Red would be perfect for you,” He pauses, tracing over her form. “Hmm, or maybe emerald. _Maybe_ we should go shopping.”

And while Ariadne’s never been quite the girly-girl type, she gasps a little in excitement. “Maybe we can grab something for Blaine too.”

He sighs and gives them both a look as he unwraps his breakfast sandwich, taking a bite. The forger hums as if in thought, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as his elbow leans against his desk.

“You think he’s ever wore anything other than _gray?”_

She scrunches her nose. “No, I don’t think so. Do you think he knows what other colors look like?”

“I’m sitting right here.” Blaine protests and Ariadne smiles to the point of laughing, Sebastian joining in.

And Blaine? He shakes his head, a soft chuckle falling from his lips too and allows himself to be distracted by them.

\--

They arrive separately because that’s what makes the most sense, they’re all under different pseudonyms anyways. It gives Blaine space and time to walk the gallery himself and make observations, he can concentrate and maybe (just maybe) enjoy a little of the art while he’s there.

He grabs a flute of champagne and meanders around, spotting Hunter across the gallery by the charity sign-in table. He’s talking to a few people, eyes wide and interested in what the couple across from him is saying. Eventually they share a laugh and offer handshakes. Whatever they’re discussing, it has something to do with money, because once Hunter leaves them they turn to the table and start filling checks out.

He’s good, clearly someone easy to talk to with a silver tongue. Blaine takes a sip from his glass and smirks a little; Hunter reminds him of—

Naturally, he turns right into Sebastian.

“Easy,” Sebastian steadies him, one hand on his forearm. “Almost spilled champagne all over me, Mr…” He trails.

Blaine clears his throat and pulls his arm free, “Miller.”

“Ah, Mr. Miller. Don’t we look positively _ravishing_ tonight?” He grins, taking a flute as well from a nearby tray.

His smile hurts his face a little, “Well, you don’t clean up too terribly yourself Mr…”

“Mahke.”

“Mr. Mahke.” Blaine repeats, tipping his glass towards him in a ‘cheers’ gesture to which they both take a sip.

“And thank you, this isn’t my usual attire…but I still found a way to make it interesting.” He lifts one of his pant legs and Blaine’s eyes fall on the _loudest_ pair of socks he’s ever seen. It almost looks like some sort of peacock design but whatever it is, it’s horridly bright against the back tie and tuxedo.

A short laugh leaves his lips, sudden, almost like he doesn’t expect it. It’s _so_ typical of Sebastian.

The forger winks and takes another sip of his wine. “Enjoy the art.” Before disappearing into the crowd.

\--

The night moves surprisingly well and fast. Blaine keeps an eye on Sebastian and Ariadne, who’s shown up in ravishing red as she promised, but doesn’t try to talk to either of them. One of the great parts of this job is that he usually works with people that don’t need hand-holding; they can communicate through looks, glances, or gestures.

Tonight’s reconnaissance is mostly just mingling, which makes it easier on everyone.

Blaine pauses in front of a painting and sighs, eyes glazing over details and absorbing the bright use of color. He sets down his champagne flute on an empty tray and sticks his hands in his pockets. He feels someone approach him, coming behind his left shoulder but just assumes it’s Sebastian.

“You recognize the artist?”

But it’s not Sebastian, it’s their _mark._ He pauses, not expecting him, but quickly picks up the question. Of course, Blaine knows the painting is a Matisse but allows Hunter to steer the conversation.

“Afraid not.”

"It's 'The Sorrows of the King'," Hunter gestures to the central black form, "They say that Matisse represented himself in this, like a self-portrait, here—surrounded by all these colors."

Blaine hums, "The pleasures of having an enriched life."

“So you do know it.”

He blushes a little under his collar, the pink working its way to his cheeks before a soft laugh falls from his lips. “Uh, guilty, I’m afraid.” He turns to look at Hunter. “I thought you might want to impress me.”

Hunter smiles, his eyes trying to read Blaine like a book. He’s appraising him like he’s art but also appreciating, sizing him up, trying to figure him out. “I was.” He licks his lips. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around my charity auctions before.”

The ‘my’ is very pointed, Hunter wants him to know that he’s both in charge and _that_ generous at the same time.

“Rickson Miller.” Blaine rolls off his tongue easily, outstretching a hand for him to shake. “And no, you haven’t, this is my first time.”

“Hunter Clarington.” The other responds and their hands meet with a gentle squeeze and seems far too amused that Blaine’s new at this event. “Sounds like you need a tour guide.”

He’s flirting with him, great, how does he get out of this one? Blaine’s eyes tick to someone over Hunter’s shoulder; Sebastian, leaning against the bar _watching_ them. For a moment he thinks it’s because they’re partners in this and he’s wondering if Blaine needs help or an out but then he realizes it’s…something else completely.

Sebastian’s eyes are a darkened green, like a forest at night, watching them with his jaw working. Is he…

No, he can’t be. Must be the trick of these florescent gallery lights.

Before Blaine has a chance to say anything to Hunter, someone crashes into him and spills red wine all over his side. He jumps back from the encounter and is about to glare at whoever’s run into him like a fucking battering ram—

But then he realizes it’s Ariadne and she looks as frantic as she sounds. “Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t even see you.” She’s pulling tissues out of her purse and leaning in close to dab at his chest. “We need to go,” She says under her breath, “ _Now.”_

“It’s fine,” He pushes her away, “Really it’s fine. I’ll just…clean this up.” He sighs and pretends to feel annoyed and not frazzled by her message and turns to look at Hunter. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he’s gone, heading towards the back corner for the bathrooms. Sebastian is gone from the bar, probably seeing the display and getting the same message. Blaine walks past the restrooms and slips out the back door into an alleyway where Sebastian and Ariadne are waiting.

“What’s going on?”

The question barely leaves his mouth before the gunfire starts. Blaine’s brain flips a switch and his entire body falls into automatic. He slams Ariadne into the brick wall across from the backdoor, shielding her from bullets flying by as Sebastian hides behind a dumpster.

“Told you we had to go!” Is all she says before they take off running.

Blaine takes his gun out from his waistband and fires back, it’s mostly just a countermeasure, to get _them_ to stop shooting long enough so they can run. They took an Uber here so if they can make it to the parking lot and hotwire a car…

It’s a lot of steps and Ariadne isn’t running fast enough with her heels. They stop around a corner and pant, Sebastian moving to tear at the bottom of her dress so she doesn’t trip on it.

“Lose the heels.” He snaps, like it’s common sense and she quickly unbuckles them and stands on her bare feet before they take off running again.

“Sebastian.” Blaine says but the forger’s read his mind as they reach the parking lot, he’s running around to the driver’s seat of a car when the shooting starts again.

They duck and Blaine peeks out over the hood every so often to shoot, giving Sebastian enough time to get into the car and begin hot-wiring. “Who the _fuck_ are they?” He shouts over the gunfire.

Blaine wishes he had an answer, he has no idea and _that_ within itself is a very bad sign that he didn’t do his job correctly. He’s suddenly getting flashbacks of the Fischer job, of the fact that _he_ didn’t do research correctly and didn’t realize the mark’s subconscious was militarized. Panic works its way down his spine and his fingers itch for his die that’s in his pocket—he wants to check it, just in case, but now’s not the time.

A bullet sings past his right ear.

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth and shoots again, his ears ringing.

It’s not until Sebastian gets the car started that he sees blood…but it’s not his. His eyes flicker over to Ariadne, its _Ariadne_ and she’s clutching onto her shoulder, not making any noise but wincing.

She’s been shot.

They shot Ariadne in the shoulder and suddenly Blaine has tunnel vision.

“Let’s go!” Sebastian yells, the engine revving.

He has to literally shake his head clear of the fog before he moves to lift Ariadne into the backseat, crawling in with her. Sebastian punches the gas pedal and they speed out of the parking lot with skidding tires. Bullets blow out the back window and Blaine covers Ariadne’s body with his own to shield her from the glass. He sticks his gun out and shoots once, twice, three times before Sebastian turns the corner.

“She’s hit, Sebastian.” Blaine’s taking off his suit jacket and using it to press against Ariadne’s wound. She cries out in pain and he has to close his eyes to block out the sound. He has to concentrate and he can’t let go even though it hurts. “I know.” He says gently.

Sebastian looks over his shoulder before returning his gaze to the road. “Where?” The point man blanks again; his fingers feel numb. “ _Blaine,”_ He snaps, “Where?”

“Her shoulder.” He clears his throat. “It’s her shoulder.”

The gunfire stops which tells him that they lost whoever had been following them. Sebastian pulls up to the warehouse and slams on the breaks, “Get her inside, I’m going to ditch the car.”

Blaine nods and pulls Ariadne against his body to help her out of the car. He hits the door to the warehouse open with his shoulder and sits her down on one of the lawn chairs they keep near their desks for when they use the PASIV.

She looks at little pale as she lies down and he tries to convince himself that she always looks like that, her complexion is _always_ a little pale with her pinkish hues and…his eyes trail down to her shoulder.

There’s so much blood.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She says and she’s smiling. How can she be smiling?

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the hottest girl you’ve ever seen.” She jokes and Blaine laughs, kneeling on the floor next to her, holding his jacket to her shoulder. His other hand rubs her arm because he can feel her shaking.

“Well, you wouldn’t be wrong.” He swallows, looking over his shoulder for Sebastian.

Blaine realizes then he doesn’t have to wait for him, he can do this himself. The sooner the better. He gets up from his spot on the floor and gets the first-aid kit, opening it up. He pulls the jacket aside and tugs her dress down so he can clearly see her shoulder.

“You look at Sebastian a little differently.” She mumbles, resting her head back.

“Stay awake, Ariadne, okay?” He tears an antiseptic wipe with his teeth and starts cleaning around her wound. He needs to be able to _see—_ God, he’s going to have to dig the bullet out. It’s still in there. “And I don’t look at Sebastian like anything.”

She smiles a little but her eyes are lazy. “You’re not fooling me. You’re not fooling him, either.”

He sighs and rolls his sleeves up. “Hold still, okay?”

Though before he can start, a loud bang sounds within the warehouse, Sebastian coming in the front door and running over to them. He’s taking off his jacket and his button down, revealing a crisp white t-shirt that’s about to be stained with blood. He sinks down next to Blaine and grabs one of his wrists.

“Let me.”

“I got it.” He tries to insist but Sebastian squeezes him, hard.

“You’re shaking.” Their eyes meet, cool and collected green boring into his hazel ones. “It’s okay. Let me do it.”

Blaine looks down at his own hands—how had he not realized they were trembling so badly? He swallows and pulls back, Sebastian instantly moving into his space and grabbing tweezers from the first-aid kit. His hands are covered in blood

and it’s then he finally realizes: _this is all his fault._

\--

Blaine doesn’t realize he’s pacing near the warehouse doors until Sebastian comes up beside him; his hands are clean, like they were never touching blood. Meanwhile, _his_ hands are still caked in it—her blood, cracking on the skin of his fingers, coating them like gloves. It’s almost laughable to him in an ironic way because this is not the first time he’s had blood on his hands, physically and metaphorically, and it certainly won’t be the last. It’s not even the first time that it’s been blood of someone he’s cared about.

But for some reason it’s…

“Blaine,” He turns towards the sound of his name. “She’s patched up, we’re going to have to order her some sort of arm brace.”

He nods but says nothing, glancing outside the warehouse before bolting the door closed.

“You should wash your hands.”

Blaine walks past him towards the small makeshift bathroom in the corner; it’s not much of a luxury but it has everything they need, including running water, “This is all my fault.”

The other sighs and follows him, leans against the doorframe to watch him turn water on. “You couldn’t have known…”

“It’s my fucking _job_ to know.” He snaps, his voice loud and aching in the small space. He knows his eyes are wild like a forest fire when he looks at Sebastian. Sebastian who is calm and collected and he _hates_ him for that.

He hates that _he’s_ usually the one that has his shit together. He didn’t see the whole picture, he allowed himself to get distracted that he didn’t consider this plan rolling out, it wasn’t even one of his options as something that could happen.

Blaine dunks his hands into the water gathering in the sink, finally washing the blood off. He’s not sure if it’s ever going to disappear from underneath his fingernails.

“I saw _nothing_ in the research that told us we might be in danger. It’s always a possibility, yeah, but I should have known we wouldn’t be the only ones after this information. It’s _never_ just us. When I turned up nothing, I should have dug deeper until I found something.”

Sebastian watches him scrub his hands raw before he finally turns off the water to the sink. “It’s easy to say that now, hindsight is 20/20 and all that.”

Blaine dries his hands and kicks the trashcan, spilling the contents all over the floor.

“Right, cause that’ll help.” Sebastian mumbles before putting his hands on Blaine’s shoulders.

The shorter squirms, trying to get him off but he’s insistent with his touch, firm. He won’t let him go. Blaine notices he’s breathing a little heavier, his chest skittering oxygen into his lungs and it’s not until Sebastian’s thumbs start stroking his collarbone does he start to wind down.

“Ariadne will be fine, alright?”

Blaine’s hands fall to the other’s arms, squeezing tighter than necessary but being able to ground himself right now is something he’ll never admit to needing. He wants to reach for his totem but somehow holding onto Sebastian is making him feel less dizzy. The taller leans closer, his chin ducking and Blaine closes his eyes when he feels the briefest of kisses press against his temple.

Then suddenly the touch is gone and Sebastian leaves him alone in the bathroom. Blaine stares after his retreating back and reaches into his pocket to feel the calculated weight of his loaded die.

\--

They have to move up the time line, considerably, which is fine because that’s one of the possibilities Blaine _did_ consider. A few days later, despite his protests, Ariadne starts working on the maze. She then snaps at him that he can’t have it both ways in which she has to rest but they’re moving up the extraction on Hunter and well, she has a point.

And Sebastian tries to hide his snickering when she yells at him.

So he lets her work and Blaine tries to iron out Hunter’s schedule in order to find him and sedate him.

“Did you end up finding out who those guys were that shot me?” Ariadne huffs as she tries to glue cardboard together with one hand. Sebastian is often by her work-station helping.

“Yeah,” Blaine looks up from his notes. “Hunter works for a mob group based in Queens, apparently he owes them some money. I’m assuming your FBI roommate didn’t know about this?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound accusatory but they really can’t deal with any more surprises.

“No,” Ariadne frowns and sits down on her desk stool, holding her arm to her chest despite the brace like an injured bird. “She would have mentioned that in her emails I collected.”

“Your friend is going to get a two-for-one special on crime smackdown.” Sebastian smiles, leaning his elbows onto her desk.

Blaine bites his tongue on the _if_ sentence: _if_ they manage to get Hunter’s routing numbers without being killed by the mob.

“Right, well, tomorrow. We’re doing this tomorrow.” He approaches her desk to look at the maze so far.

Sebastian glances at Ariadne before clearing his throat. “I have more good news,” And by that, he means bad, “The woman I was going to forge into, Hunter’s…plaything, for a lack of a better term, is in Europe on a business trip. She has been for a month and from what I understand, they don’t keep in contact with one another while she’s away.”

“It won’t make sense for her to pop up in his dream.”

“Right you are, cherry.” Sebastian playfully tugs the bottom of her scarf.

She looks up at Blaine and stares a moment, something playing across her feature. He’s not sure that he likes it; it’s a plan, it’s a set of variables that he hasn’t considered.

“Maybe we don’t need Sebastian to forge into anyone.”

Sebastian frowns, “Come again?”

“I mean, I couldn’t have been the only one to notice Hunter flirting with Blaine at the gallery event the other night.”

Oh. _Oh,_ he hadn’t considered that. It’s actually a brilliant idea and it would make sense for Hunter to dream about Blaine if he’s 1) attracted to him and 2) had a recent interaction with him.

“That’s actually...”

“A terrible idea,” Sebastian shakes his head, his shoulders tensing as he stands up straight. “We don’t use one another as bait.”

“It’s the only idea we have,” Blaine throws back. “And we’re running out of time. We’re doing this.”

“I could forge myself into _you,”_ His eyes travel along his form. “Wouldn’t be hard, I know your mannerisms and I’ve always wanted to try to fit my ass into those slacks you’re always wearing.”

Blaine lets out a laugh because that’s… _ridiculous._ “Why would you forge yourself into me when _I_ could be me?”

Ariadne remains quiet but she _does_ watch both of them with an interesting look on her face; observant, thoughtful, chewing her bottom lip as her eyes flicker from Sebastian to Blaine during their banter.

Sebastian stares at him a moment, his jaw working though Blaine can’t tell if he’s trying to come up with something to say or if he’s so angry he can’t speak. Regardless, a moment later, “It’s dangerous, Hunter’s unpredictable.”

“He’s harmless. If I have to be some sort of honey trap to get this fucking job done then I’m going to do it.” He’s not waiting for Sebastian’s approval, he doesn’t need it. “That’s it, that’s the plan.”

“Oh because the last time you came up with a plan worked so well?” He sneers and it’s a low blow.

Ariadne winces beside him, “Sebastian.”

Blaine is _so_ close to punching him right in his smug expression but he doesn’t, crossing his arms across his chest like it’ll somehow prevent him from strangling the forger. “I won’t let that happen again.”

She gently rests her hand on his arm, “I know.”

Sebastian shakes his head and a scoff slips through his teeth, “Whatever. I still get paid either way, yeah?” And he grabs his jacket off the back of his chair before leaving the warehouse.

Blaine sighs and runs his hands over his face, “Insufferable.” He mutters.

Ariadne picks up her glue and her tongue peeks between her lips as she concentrates on a thin white line of glue on the edge of a piece of carboard before sticking it on her maze.

“Come on Blaine, you mean to tell me with years of research and picking up on nuisances as a Point Man under your belt you can’t figure Sebastian out?” She looks up at him, expecting to hear some sort of answer but he’s got nothing for her.

She rolls her eyes and mutters something like _idiots_ under her breath before saying, “He’s got a thing for you.”

Blaine smirks, “Have you _met_ Sebastian? He has a thing for everyone.”

“No,” She says slowly, enunciating every word. “I mean he cares about you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

He blinks, watching her put together her model and waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for her to tell him she’s fucking with him. But she never does. And after all these years as a Point Man, out of all the variables and plans and research… he didn’t see that one coming.

\--

He steps outside to find Sebastian smoking, leaning against the warehouse and watching cars drive by. The temperature has dropped significantly since this afternoon or maybe the humidity has disappeared. Whatever it is, the breeze almost sends a chill right down his spine as he watches the soft orange glow appear at the end of Sebastian’s cigarette.

“That’s a bad habit.” He comments, tilting his head at him.

Sebastian laughs, something short and sarcastic and smoke follows the sound from his mouth. “I’m completely made up of bad habits. You should try some every once in a while,” He smiles a little. “Ruffle that perfectly ironed suit.”

Blaine watches that cigarette sit between Sebastian’s lips, his eyes following every small gesture. He often wonders at different points when working with him, if this is who Sebastian really is…or if it’s just a layer, something he wants you to see, a mask in his ever-changing wardrobe.

“We have to get this done. There’s only so much time before the mob decides to extract those routing numbers from Hunter in a less-than-gentle way.” He runs a hand through his curls. “Why don’t you want me to do this?”

“I said why,” He flicks ash off the tip of his cig.

“And it’s really about this being dangerous?” Because Blaine doesn’t believe him.

A smirk decorates Sebastian’s handsome face and he angles his body towards him, “What else is it supposed to be about? Ah, that’s right I forgot. You don’t trust me.”

Blaine reaches for the cigarette and Sebastian lets him have it. He rolls it between his fingertips a moment before taking a slow hit, pulling smoke into his lungs and holding it there before letting it out.

“I want to.” He says, hazel eyes finding green. “You don’t give me a lot to work with.”

Sebastian smiles, “I’m afraid blind faith is just something you have to accept in this profession.”

Blaine drops the cigarette and steps on it, letting out a last bit of smoke. There’s a large part of him that just wants to give in, a part that remembers the heat of his hands on his shoulders and the soft gentle press of his lips against his temple. Sebastian takes a step closer to him and he’s embraced with his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and something that’s distinctly Sebastian’s skin.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Blaine asks, a smile toying with the edges of his mouth as he fingers a particularly ugly shirt Sebastian is sporting. “Nothing about you is real.”

Sebastian tilts Blaine’s chin, “How I feel about you is probably the only thing that’s real.” And when he’s sure Blaine isn’t going to throw a punch, he kisses him.

It’s slow and purposeful and digs deep and before Sebastian can pull away Blaine is pressing himself up on his toes for more, his arms wrapping around his shoulders. He pushes Sebastian back against the warehouse and the forger’s hands travel, pulling at his hips and ass, trying to get closer and closer until they have to pull back for air.

He pants gently against Sebastian’s lips, his body wanting to respond on its own by rolling his hips forward but he knows that’s impractical. Sebastian smirks a little, seeming to read his mind, his hand playing with a curl by his ear.

“Well would you look at that, your suit’s wrinkled.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but a laugh still slips out, “And your shirt is _still_ ugly.”

Sebastian’s offended look is probably the most honest reaction that he has.

\--

The plan is simple and maybe he needs to stop saying words like ‘easy’ and ‘simple’ in order not to jinx himself, but when it boils down to it that’s exactly what the plan is: simple. The next charity event is at a hotel in downtown Manhattan and they’ve already got a room booked.

All Blaine has to do is get Hunter to come upstairs with him, slip him a surprise in his drink and he’s out like a light—hopefully waking up the next day with a nice headache and the police knocking on his door. Ariadne’s waiting in a room across the hall and Sebastian follows him into the charity event, waiting at the bar for Hunter to show up.

“Once Hunter is here, it shouldn’t take very long.”

Sebastian chuckles against the rim of his glass. “Don’t _you_ sound confident.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m a professional, I know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t know how to flirt.”

“Says the guy who kissed me last night.”

The taller shrugs. “That had everything to do with your insatiable ass, not your flirting skills.”

Blaine puts his glass down on the bar and sees Hunter enter the hotel over his shoulder. “He’s here.” He mumbles, putting a tip down for his drink and moving to walk past Sebastian.

The taller grabs his arm and stops him a moment, waiting until their eyes meet to say, “Be careful.” And then he’s gone, disappears into the crowd like a magician up in smoke.

Blaine lets out a slow breath through his nose, straightening his shoulders as he walks into Hunter’s vicinity, pretending not to see him as he leans over the charity table to fill out a check.

“Rickson Miller, right?”

Blaine turns with a smile. “Hunter. I guess I should have assumed you’d be here.”

“Trying to avoid me?” He laughs gently, eyes traveling along Blaine’s form.

He kicks the ‘blushing school-boy’ act into high gear, ducking his head as a soft blush kisses his cheeks. “Quite the opposite actually.”

Hunter eats it right up, taking a step towards him. “You left early the other night, at the gallery event?”

“I’m afraid red wine ruining one of your best dress shirts dampens the art-appreciating mood a little.”

“Such a shame,” Hunter hums, “You’re not boycotting red wine are you?”

Blaine laughs, light and gentle and tilts his head back a little. _Got him._ “Course not, I have some in room chilling actually for when this event is over.”

Hunter takes another step into his space and he’s not much taller than him so their noses are practically brushing. “Why wait?” His hand falls to Blaine’s arm, squeezing, almost guiding him.

“Are you sure you don’t have a charity to run?” Blaine teases even though they’re making their way towards the elevator.

Hunter presses the up button. “It’ll be here when we’re done.”

He scrunches his nose and keeps commentary to himself on the fact that Hunter thinks they’re going to be done quickly. The last thing he wants to think about as he presses 7 for his floor is about how short… _excursions_ happen with the other male between the sheets. He tries to shake off the feeling and guides Hunter down the hall when the elevator beeps and uses his room key to get in.

“So the wine is in the mini-fridge—”

Except Hunter has other plans and presses him against the closed door, knee between his thighs. “Let’s forget the wine, hmm?”

A breath catches in Blaine’s throat but it’s not from arousal; he didn’t expect this and he has to clamp down on every instinct that tells him to knock Hunter out. He can’t do that; the mark has to wake up thinking they were in a dream, not that they were violated.

Blaine tries to pull back from him but Hunter’s body is insistent, it’s not giving him much wiggle room and he’s starting to kiss his neck.

“Really?” He asks, voice purposely high. “ _No_ wine?” He pouts and then leans forward to nip at Hunter’s lower lip. “Come on, one drink to set the mood?”

He sighs, staring at him a moment before finally relenting. Hunter pulls back and loosens his tie as Blaine quickly moves to the mini-fridge. He pours the drinks and dumps a sedative into Hunter’s glass hiding in his cufflinks and turns to hand it to him.

“To charity.” Blaine holds up his glass to cheers and Hunter just snorts before taking a long sip, finishing the glass quickly.

He’s barely able to take a sip of his own before Hunter is on him again, pressing him back towards the bed. The sedative shouldn’t take long and he begins to count down from thirty. Hunter yanks at Blaine’s shirt, pulling some buttons loose, his lips are currently assaulting his neck and his knee is sort of bruising the inside of his thigh.

Maybe he should have researched a little deeper on the fact that Hunter clearly likes it rough—they could have tied him to the bed, wouldn’t have _that_ been a show.

He winces and tries to let out a convincing moan as Hunter rips his belt off and…and pauses.

He pulls back and looks down at Blaine, almost as if he’s confused before his eyes roll back into his head and he tumbles off the bed. The Point Man lets out a long breath before sitting up, sending a text message to Ariadne.

Not thirty seconds later her and Sebastian are entering the room, the silver case of the PASIV reflecting against the dim bedside lights.

The taller pauses at seeing Blaine on the bed, slightly disheveled, shirt yanked open and belt on the floor. He shakes his head and fixes his shirt best he can as Ariadne sets the PASIV on the floor and opens it.

“I’m alright.” He assures him.

Sebastian doesn’t look convinced and he _kicks_ Hunter against his thigh, Ariadne giving him a stern look. “Oops, look at that. Wasn’t watching where I was going.” And he turns Hunter’s body over so that he’s on his back.

A soft smile tugs its way onto Blaine’s mouth at the gesture before he’s lying down on the bed.

“You’re going to have to be charming again in there, you know.” She tells him, pulling the line for the IV as Blaine rolls up his sleeve.

“I know.” He pauses, watching Sebastian lie down next to him. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to stay out here with Ariadne.”

“I’m not letting you go in alone.” He rolls up his sleeve. “Hunter’s a creep, you’ll need me.”

“And Ariadne has one working arm and no gun.”

“I’m sitting right here.” She pouts and isn’t kind about inserting the needle in his arm. She then pulls another line for Sebastian, handing it to him so he can vein it himself.

“Five minutes and not a second more,” Blaine instructs her, getting comfortable. It’s hard to concentrate with Sebastian next to him, feeling his body heat seep into his own. “Should be enough time.”

“We’re gonna need to do a lot better than ‘should’, darling.” Sebastian winks.

“Go to sleep, Mr. Mahke.”

The forger grins and inserts the needle into his arm. “As you wish, Mr. Miller.”

And Ariadne pushes the plunger.

\--

Blaine glances at his watch; they have an hour but he expects they’re not going to need that much time. He doesn’t know where Sebastian is but he’s got to find Hunter and he makes his way towards the gallery floorplan that Ariadne has designed so beautifully.

She really has a talent for details and he knows that the whole point of this is to feel real but the girl has a knack for going deep, down to textures and sounds and sometimes even smell—which is a _really_ tricky thing to do because smells aren’t the same for most people. But it’s also dangerous, it’s one of the quickest ways to get lost in it all.

He finds Hunter near the cash bar at the back of the gallery and he glances around the room at some of the projections looking at art. This is going to be tricky; there’s certainly no bed around for Hunter to drag Blaine into…so he’s curious as to what’s going to serve as his ‘safe’ to hide his secrets.

He lets out a slow breath and starts his way over, bumping into an old woman.

“Terribly sorry—” Is halfway out of his mouth before she’s grabbing onto his arm.

“Afraid it’s my fault, dearie, got distracted by that derriere in those trousers.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and his blood runs _red hot_ because he’s going to _kill_ Sebastian. He glares at her…him, whatever and grabs her by the arm, yanking her away from the bar.

“Are you crazy? What are you doing?”

“Just blending in,” She winks at him and Blaine feels slightly creeped out. “Have you tried the wine yet, it’s a _delicious_ Bordeaux…”

“See this right here? _This_ is why you needed to stay out with Ariadne. There’s no reason why you need to be here.”

“I highly doubt it’d be much fun without me.” Sebastian makes the old woman’s face pout. “Besides, Ariadne can handle herself, one arm or not.”

Blaine bites his tongue on making a scene, the last thing they need is for this whole thing to explode because he starts arguing with Sebastian as an 80-year-old woman. That’d really put a damper in things and while he’s probably right in thinking Hunter isn’t some sort of chivalrous man, it’d be odd enough to draw his attention to strange things in the dream.

And they don’t need that kind of attention.

He walks away from him quickly, leaning against the bar and ordering a fucking Bordeaux as Hunter sips on his champagne.  He’s patient, if he’s learned anything…

“Enjoying the art?”

Blaine turns with a soft smile; Hunter comes right to him. “It’s quite something. Are you putting bids on anything?”

Hunter shakes his head, “Afraid not, I’m running the event so I don’t have time to bid.”

He sips his wine, “ _Oh._ You’re the brains of the operation, hmm?” He lets his hand trail over Hunter’s chest, pausing to finger his lapel. “Sounds like a lot of hard work.”

Amusement dances in the other’s eyes as his fingers find Blaine’s wrist. “It is.”

He licks his lips, “I hope you take some time for yourself.”

Hunter finishes his champagne in one sip. “I think I could easily take time for myself right now; any chance you want to help with that?”

Though he doesn’t give Blaine much of a chance to respond, he’s dragging him away from the bar and past the art and he knows they’re going in the direction of the bathroom. He presses him into the door and it opens with a bang until he’s backed against the sink.

Just before Blaine thinks Hunter is going to kiss him he feels a sharp pain against his ribcage.

And he goes cold.

It’s a gun.

_Fuck, this job just isn’t meant to be._

“I know who you are.”

Blaine slowly puts his hands up, swallowing. “Do you?”

Hunter’s hand is shaking and that gun is pressed further into his ribcage. Okay, maybe moving this somewhere private was a bad idea. He knows that he’s in a dream and that if Hunter shoots him he’ll eventually wake up but the thought of writhing in pain for at _least_ forty-five minutes is enough to give him pause.

“You work for the mob based in Queens. You guys have been following me around like fucking dogs in heat.” His one hand moves to pull Blaine’s hair, hard, and tips his head back. The gun moves to right under his chin. “I knew it. I knew when you were practically throwing yourself all over me that this had to be more than about charity.”

Okay, he’s never letting Sebastian know that his flirting needs pointers. Ever. But he decides to play along, just for now. They still need to know where Hunter’s hiding the routing numbers.

“If you don’t give me what they want it’ll just end up worse for you, Mr. Clarington.”

He laughs, a little frantic, “I have a gun to your throat, you sure you want to be the one calling the shots?”

Blaine hears the safety click off and he closes his eyes. At least the gun is positioned in a way that’ll kill him instantly. If he dies, Sebastian will be on his own, but at least the job won’t be a total wash.

Except the gunshot never comes because Hunter is knocked out cold, Sebastian standing behind him. “See? Told you you’d need me.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and rubs the back of his head which stings from his curls being yanked. “Don’t remind me.”

“We need to go, with Hunter like this the projections are going to be on our asses.”

He steps over the body on the floor, “I didn’t get the location, Sebastian. I failed.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” He opens the bathroom door and Blaine can hear the projections getting antsy, loud, they’re running into things, banging, knocking displays over, clawing at the walls and breaking glass. “We have to go.”

Sebastian doesn’t wait for him, instead he _yanks_ him from the bathroom and drags him down the hall towards the backdoor where they escaped in reality. Ariadne should have a maze through there, if he’s remembering correctly, that they can hide in until the timer runs down.

The projections start after them, running, and they always seem to remind Blaine of some sort of distorted zombie movie when they move in herds like that and right before they get to the door, something catches his eye.

It’s a painting but it’s not just that…he’s seen it before.

“Blaine,” Sebastian snaps, “I’m all for art but can we look at shit when we’re not about to be beaten alive, please?”

“It’s a Matisse.” He says and he understands that his statement has zero context.

“Thanks Reading Rainbow,” But Blaine won’t allow Sebastian to pull him any further.

“ _No,_ Sebastian…this is it.” He says, looking up at the Matisse. He recognizes it because it’s the same one he stood in front of with Hunter that night: The Sorrow of the King.

_"The pleasures of having an enriched life."_

Blaine moves quickly, pulling the painting off the wall. Alarms start to go off but all in all? That’s okay…because right in the wall behind it is a safe. He pulls on the lever and reaches inside, Sebastian pulling on his arm as projections round the corner to them. He holds onto a few sheet of papers and a projection yanks on him, hard, and he ends up on his back.

It knocks the wind out of him but he scrambles to his feet and Sebastian’s gun goes off, shooting projects left and right before they make it past the back door.

They run into the maze and as Blaine rounds a corner he gets a good look at the bank account numbers, repeating them over and over into his memory. Sebastian’s busy with projections, shooting his gun every so often to keep them at bay. They have to run occasionally but their hour is almost up—he hears the district sound of the warning music playing.

Sebastian grins at him. “What ever shall we do with our few moments left?”

And Blaine? Blaine smiles back and drops the papers, pulling Sebastian to kiss him.

\--

Blaine adjusts his sunglasses so they’re not sliding down the bridge of his nose and takes a slow sip of his americano. It’s a gorgeous day out, albeit 85 degrees but he’s not about to spend it inside. He licks his lips and picks up the newspaper on his table, opening it up.

“Honestly, do you own a pair of shorts?”

He smiles a little, glancing over the top of the newspaper to see Sebastian sitting down across from him.

“A t-shirt or a short-sleeved button down? Anything?”

“I like my suits.” His eyes flicker back to the paper and he sips on his coffee again. “And as you’ve previously stated, you like them too.”

Sebastian shrugs, “I’d like you with less layers on.” Then, “ _Actually_ I’d prefer to take those layers off you, so mise well leave ‘em on.”

He shakes his head, setting the paper down. “I was just reading a bit of news.”

The front page details a major breakthrough in a charity scam, a Hunter Clarington being arrested for money laundering and fraud—not to mention being tied to a mob in Queens.  

“Such a shame.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.” Blaine closes the newspaper, leaning his elbows onto the small table. “How’s Ariadne?”

“She decided to fly out to Paris this morning so I’d say she’s quite good.” Sebastian reaches across the table for Blaine’s coffee and sips out of it. “She said we better figure our shit out or she’s not working with us again.”

A laugh sneaks out of his lips, “She always did have a knack for being succinct.”

“Think she also has a point.”

Blaine manages to tug his coffee back without spilling it all over himself. “What’s there to figure out? We work together, we’re colleagues.” He shrugs. “There, done.”

Sebastian smiles, his leg moving under the table to rub against Blaine’s. “Oh darling, you never were good at lying.”

**Author's Note:**

> Research on Matisse’s art was found here: https://www.henrimatisse.org/sorrow-of-the-king.jsp
> 
> If you enjoyed this I wrote another fic that was a movie adaptation / inspiration called ‘The Guy in 6B’ which was a shout out to a great rom-com called ‘What’s Your Number’.


End file.
